Black Fang
by Cor Serpentis
Summary: Destiny has long held a treasured place in man's heart. But what provokes destiny. It is the past, our past lives. Two spirits, reborn as two bodies, fight to reclaim their destiny. ZukoxSokka. Rated M
1. Heralding a Patriarch

Hello! This is my first stab at Avatar slash, so be kind. Just to clarify the concept, here is an a brief summation of the prologue. All life can be traced back to a time when only spirits roamed the earth. Two spirits, fell in love, and sparked a tragic romance that left its mark on time itself. Now, Tentou, is a spirit of fire, reborn as Zuko. Byakuya is a more celestial spirit, reborn as Sokka...well, as this is a prologue, hope it hooks ya!

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Since the conception of the immortal spirits, and later the birth of mortal man, destiny has always held a treasured place in philosophy. The allure of the future shines for all beings, as the want of security has been bred in us from infancy. All creatures fear the unknown, for what is not understood cannot be planned or controlled, it is unpredictable. What has never been acknowledged, however, is that the future has not yet been set in stone. The flow of time is neither stemmed nor altered by events foreordained, and as such, destiny is shaped by our pasts. Our past choices, our past lives, our past selves.

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Tentou stretched his wings skyward as he soared above the frozen tundra beneath him. In spite of the roaring flames marking his heavenward trail, the sight of the ice-adorned landscape pebbled his olive skin with the illusion of cold. Yet, he found it only heightened his sense of exhilarating freedom. It was not often that he was able to escape his duties monitoring the Ways of Heaven. Bound to the palace of the First Spirit, Amaterasu, he was incarcerated by duty and responsibility. Despite his numerous attempts at sovereignty, to finally stand by his own strength, he remained Tentou: First Prince by the Sun Spirit Amaterasu, the Second Sun of the Summer Sky, Guardian of the Ways of Heaven, the Imperial Flame of Judgment, the Spirit of Divine Justice.

Shaking his head at the mere remembrance of the weight those gaudy titles carried, Tentou refocused on the path he burned through the sky. Gongen had always been nothing but a cage. Where it was born in his heart to soar, to fly, in search of something or someone-whatever it was to fulfill the desire burning away inside of him, fate had woven him a fine tapestry of confinement. Mother said his restless spirit was simply the manifestation of his youth, something that would fade in time. He may only be a few centuries past his sixteenth cycle of the planets (1), but that did not give her the right to decide what he was feeling, as if he was born less then a millennia ago! Maybe it was destiny, or he was simply anxious to find his own self. Maybe he was not yet complete. Besides, he didn't want that feeling to go away, he wanted it to be satisfied. Whatever it was that made him fly wherever his white wings could carry him, he wanted to find it. He would find it, and he would make it his, and he would be content.

Noticing the angle of Mother's light, Tentou was made urgently aware of the lost daylight. He was aware, yet at the same time, glad he was out in a forbidden domain. Nobility such as he did not journey to the Territories, as was the mark of crass and inane spirits. Yet here he was, soaring over hostile lands in the waning light of his mother's power. His own fire would be weaker now, for all fire came from the Mother Sun, and he was in an unfamiliar province. Using his energy to forge a fire-path through the sky was imprudent, nevertheless, he was hesitant to land in a place clearly ill befitted to his stature. Still, in a blossom of flames, Tentou was soon standing on a patch of freezing earth. The icy ground was cool to his slippered feet, and the loose red silk tunic he wore wasn't fit for travel by foot. Summoning his inner fire, he turned to the sky, marking his place against the stars, and turned toward Gongen, praying that he could find an oasis within this blizzard scoured tundra. Amber eyes taking in the savage glory of his surroundings, Tentou took a deep breath and began his journey.

It truly was a breathtaking sight-towering ice figures caught the last rays of the fading sunset, coating the horizon in a scintillating necklace of crystalline water. This was not how he had imagined it, nor how it had been described to him. The Elder Spirit of Storms had spoken of the Territories as wild and filled with vengeful, savage spirits with little to no control of their environment, devolved to the point of simply flinging their elements about instead of taking its essence within themselves. At one point, he had said, all the immortal spirits pledged their loyalties to Gongen, but hierarchies were raised and tempers enflamed. Soon the Great Schism War scattered the spirits to the ends of the planes. After countless years of neither side progressing, a truce was declared and the majority of the spirits resettled within the gates of Gongen. Others would not revoke their convictions and carried their titles out of the realm, claiming the Territories as their own. That may have been the case, but it was long before his time.

Tentou didn't sense the shadow of a vengeful spirit, or even a hint of malice within miles. The Territories were wild, but it was a wild, untamed, beauty-not an inherently cannibalistic or uncivilized place. Beautiful it may be, but its charms were deadly to a spirit such as he. Focus and control only went so far when winds carried piercing cold and the night stole the warmth from your very breath. Light seemed to emanate from the land itself, but there was no spirit to guide his way. In time, he was utterly and truly lost. With his path hidden from him, Tentou very well may have reached the end of his journey.

His bare arms wrapped around him, his wings sheltering him from the storm, and still he collapsed onto the snow.

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Byakuya leaned against the wall of his humble dwelling. The simple furnishings that could be acquired were sparsely scattered about the frozen bungalow. Carved straight into the ground, the harsh winds and icy blasts tore at the roof, but could not penetrate the protected shelter. He didn't really now what he should do with the spirit now taking over his bed. In fact, he didn't even now why he had bothered to bring him here anyway. As he was heading home after checking the boundaries of his realm, right in the center of his path, was this being collapsed on the ground. There was really no way he could miss the man, his red coverings in stark contrast with the white snow swirling in eddies around him. Byakuya had simply felt compelled to bring the distressed spirit home, which left him with his current dilemma-no place to sleep and not enough meat for two.

Fingers fisted in the soft, long hair fur that was draped across his body. A huge wolfhead with obsidian teeth clasped the single piece garment at the right shoulder, while the rest of the fur cascaded down the length of his body, a black leather belt securing it to his waist. The silver robe had been given to him by a clan of wolves indigenous to the Territories, as a sign of peace between the spirit and the animals. Wolves were an odd species, with a strange link to the world that they lived in. It was as if they themselves were also spirits, and not just beings of the present like others of their kind. Byakuya had forged an odd sort of bond with the creatures that occupied these lonely lands. As such, he had adopted the wolf as his totem.

A soft groan brought his attention to the bed, the light from the snow casting a blue light throughout the room revealing the restless form lying beneath thick polar bearskin blankets. Pitch-black hair shone with a healthy luster-just a shade darker than his own-but for some reason; it seemed the darkest, deepest shade he had ever seen. Byakuya had the ridiculous notion that, if he let his fingers run through that mysterious hair, he might never see his hand again. Smooth, fair skin stretched unbroken over the expanse of the body. In all his years, he had never come across that color of skin before. It was not the white of those ostracized from the outdoors, nor the sun-darkened tan that he sported. It was…intriguing. The spirit seemed to be of an age with himself, if not a bit older, and Byakuya could feel the emotions roiling off the almost still form. Passion, and power, anxiety and pride-all these things thrumming through the individual restrained only by a warm blanket. Nothing showed on his face, and Byakuya had the feeling that if the unknown spirit were awake, he still wouldn't be able to see it. Somehow, though, he could feel it. Somehow, he felt that he could…calm it.

Tentou started out of bed, breathing hard and fast. He had no recollection of where he was, or how he got there. All he remembered was collapsing in the snow, at the mercy of the wilderness. Here he was, though. In an unfamiliar…ice cave…with slightly rough animal furs as coverings. Instantly, he knew that wherever he was, it was still outside of Gongen; no respected spirit would allow furnishing of temporal beings in their homes. Someone must have taken him in after the storm stole his consciousness. Spying a figure lounging against an ice wall, he spun around-clutching his head as his world spun in time.

"Where am I?"

"Well, obviously, you're in my home. I highly doubt that the snow just up and built itself around you." The words were dripping with sarcasm, and Tentou could just imagine the form making some rude posturing. "I'm Byakuya, by the way."

"Who?" What was this person saying? Why did he have to be so…shrill?

Really? Byakuya was clueless as to why the spirit had asked that question. He wasn't supposed to know who he was! They just met! As in, right now! What a prissy lordling! "Oh, I'm soooo sorry. I forgot, your utmost and bloated highness! I misspoke. Without realizing it, I haven't given you my full and engorged name. Of course! That must be why you don't know me! Well, in that case, I am Byakuya, Herald of the Summer Sun, Guardian of the Arctic Wolf, Lord of the Arctic Nights, Keeper of the Black Fang, Scion of the Star Spirits, and Spirit of the Midnight Sun. At least, that was what my father told me."

Taking the insouciant, obnoxious, tone to heart, Tentou was full and ready to give this _boy_ a piece of his mind. Raising his head with a glare, a retort on his tongue, he stopped with his mouth open. A stately figure stood before him, luxurious sable hair cascading down fine shoulders. Piercingly blue eyes held intelligence and wit, as well as an indomitable personality. Dressed in a robe of silver fur, a giant beast's head at the shoulder, the spirit seemed to be sparsely clad for the environment. An entire half of his sun-darkened chest was exposed, one whole limb unprotected. Belted at the waist, the robe didn't stay properly closed. A long part revealed a scandalous amount of the stranger's bare legs, advertising the smooth, golden-brown skin of his host. This boy was simply, breathtaking.

Byakuya was less than pleased. This spoiled brat, no matter how good he looked, was pissing him off. Granted, it had a rough and tumble mating vibe-not that he had mated-but he was a living male. All males can identify a mating vibe. He had gone through the trouble of identifying himself, and all he got was a dumb look! "Well! Who're you? You kinda owe me a name, titles and all. I gave you that, and my bed!"

Shaking his head out of his stupor, trying to ignore the tremulous feeling of 'home' growing in his chest, he gave his name. "I am Tentou: First Prince by the Sun Spirit Amaterasu, the Second Sun of the Summer Sky, Guardian of the Ways of Heaven, the Imperial Flame of Judgment, the Spirit of Divine Justice."

Now we were getting somewhere. If only he would speak in that soft, intense, gravely voice…everything would be great. Though…anything was better than this awkward silence.

Tentou stared into the semi-darkness, wrestling with his impulsiveness.

"Here are your clothes. They were wet, and it looked like you were dying. So, I just, sorta stripped you."

Snorting before he could catch himself, "Sorta stripped me? It certainly feels like you went all the way." Looking Byakuya in the eye, thoroughly enjoying the blush dancing across his cheeks, Tentou felt something come together inside of him. He felt something fit into his soul, he finally felt…whole. Mentally steeling himself for what he was about to do, he took a breath and began. "Would you mind bringing them closer? I don't think that I could reach them from here."

Byakuya stepped forward, a little wary of his houseguest. He really had no idea what was going to happen…but his clairvoyance tickled at the edge of his mind. He had long since learned to trust that nagging at the back of his head, but, Byakuya forced it aside and brought the garments to the side of his bed.

As soon as Byakuya was close enough, Tentou let loose a powerful blast of pure spirit, forcing his power onto the other. Dazed and off balance, Byakuya stumbled but quickly regained his balance, battling back with his own essence. There was no danger in this fight, but everything was on the line. Pure spirit was rarely used, and highly straining. It was only used in assessing another's ability…and mating bonds.

The two spirits battled fiercely, neither gaining an inch on the other. All too soon, it was apparent that neither could win this fight…and neither knew where it would lead. Sweat beaded on Byakuya's brow, and heat flushed the pallor of Tentou's face. In a moment, their eyes met. Despite the titanic clashing of their two wills, everything about them seemed to calm. One had become two. In that moment, in that small eternity, neither one submitted, or was beaten. Byakuya simply accepted, pleased with the matching of their kindred souls. Tentou blushed hesitantly, as he realized that it was on his shoulders to finish what was started; yet he slowly gripped his partner's shoulders, lowering them to the bed.

Emboldened by his good fortune, impulsiveness took him and he threw his clothes out of the way, nearly desperate to figure out Byakuya's curious garment. Steady fingers lifted his chin, bringing him face to face with a mischievously grinning Byakuya. Long, elegant fingers clasped his own, leading his arm between a gap underneath belt, reaching up to untie a lacing above his left nipple. Feeling the sudden give in the long robe, Tentou slid the soft, silver fur off of his prize.

Feeling the longing of the other against his own, Byakuya shuddered as his spirit still waged with Tentou's. His talents may not linger in the realms of direct violence, but his deftness in the world of inference and cunning, coupled with his clairvoyant nature, gave him heightened awareness in spite of the overwhelming passion. He felt a thickness grope between his legs, silently asking ascension. Without a word, Byakuya drew his mate closer with his bared legs.

Grunting against the intrusion, his eyes rolled back into his head, filled with the heat of his body and the thrumming of their spirits. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed through his body, each one building upon its predecessor. Dangling by a thread, his body hung over an abyss, hot flames broiling his skin, until it suddenly snapped. And he was engulfed in burning ecstasy. Ropes of his essence spurted from his jumping member, liquid flame pooling in his belly. Even as he lay in the bright afterglow, he felt his partner follow, his body clamped tight around Tentou's thick shaft. Concentrated fire blazed inside of him, Tentou's seed buried deep within his body. Tentou collapsed on top of him, their bodies twitching spasmodically, ignoring the gravity of the moment.

Both spirits gasped as their breath was stolen from them, their spirits twisting and writhing against one another. The two wills wrapped around them pulsing in counterpoint with the other. Lingering pleasure ignited once more as their mating was sealed, evidencing itself in a secondary round of shuddering moans.

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Soon, it was found that Byakuya had been chosen to bear a child. Word reached Amaterasu, who, enraged by her son's constant disappearances, erupted in anger. Stars were thrown from the heavens by the mere force of her wrath. The two were brought to her, and thrown at her feet. Blinded by rage, she hurled a fireball at Byakuya. Tentou lept in front of his lover, the flames burning his left eye. A scar lingered, a scar for his love, only to be healed by his love. Relentless in her fury, Amaterasu took the child from Byakuya's belly, and hurled both Tentou and himself into the Fountain of Ages.

Crafted by an unknown being, the Fountain of Ages has stood since time beyond reckoning, filled with the flowing waters of time itself. Contained as it was, the world stood unchanged since its creation. With Byakuya imprisoned in its waters, and Tentou who tried to save him, their spirits overwhelmed the ancient vessel, and time itself burst through its dam.

Grief striking her heart, Amaterasu did what she could to save her world, using her great power to sever the spirits from the temporal world, creating the spirit world and the mortal world. Denaosu, the son taken by Amaterasu, was never reunited with his parents, but fathered the spirits of the Moon, Ocean, Earth, and Wind. Byakuya and Tentou lived out their live together, in the fleeting span of mortality. It was a true love, though tainted by violence; a story time does not allow one to appreciate. It was a true love, one to be played out through the ages, driven by the cycle of rebirth.

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The two-year old Prince Zuko wobbled out onto the deck of a grand, Imperial Navy Ship, the brilliant emblem of the Fire Nation waving in the wind. "Zuko, don't worry your mother like that! Stay close to me." Ursa's soothing voice caught the toddler's ear, and the curious child slowed.

Pointing to the sky, the young prince frowned at the bright sun, shining in the depths of midnight. "No bed! Bright time!"

Chuckling faintly, Ursa gathered the rambunctious little one in her arms. "It's nighttime, little prince. We're at the South pole, and the sun sometimes stays up all night. Time for bed."

Little Zuko stared as hard as he could at the burning ball of fire. Something inside, something he couldn't recall, yearned for…something. All he knew was that sun, that midnight sun, beckoned to him.

Kalla rushed into the midwife's hut, her daughter lying on the soft furs. Her labor had just started, as soon as the midnight sun reached its zenith. It would only remain directly over the pole for a few minutes, but that thought was soon pushed from her head as a terrific scream brought her attention back to Kaiya. Stunned at the quick birth, Kalla was still for a moment, before quickly rushing to help.

The Elder Mother knelt before Kaiya, offering her newborn son to her. "What shall you name this boy? Born at the time of the midnight sun's power, surely he will bring great joy to our people."

"Come now, Mother. You know as well as I that stories seldom come true anymore. With the avatar gone…the spirits have all but abandoned us."

The old woman sniffed indignantly. "I believe in no such thing. Now, is the boy to have a name or not?"

"Sokka. That will be his name. Sokka, of the Southern Water tribe. Mama, what have you to say?"

Kalla knelt next to the Mother, prophecy on her tongue. "Strong is he born this day…"

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So, for those of you who got confused toward the end, well...its a prologue. Oh, and hope you like the light lemon. And if anyone know's the real names of Sokka's mom and Gran-gran...let me know! Please Review! I need to know if its worth going forward. Ten reviews will do!


	2. Shadow of Ancient Strife

To all my readers, I'm really sorry about the delay. With having a job, loosing a job, finding a job, going to school, paying for school, buying a computer, fixing a computer, returning a computer, and buying a computer...I've had little time to do anything. I hope this is satisfactory, but something tells me I'm off my game. PLEASE REVIEW AND HELP ME OUT! Oh, and my next story out will be the next chapter for pedigree pup.

Warning:LEMON ALERT! MANSEX!

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Sokka huddled closer to the fire, straining to see that old parchment in front of him. Dawn was only a few hours away, leaving him very little time to get some rest. He had a tight schedule to keep, if he was going to keep Team Avatar on track. They needed to get close enough to the Fire Nation capital to organize an assault. They needed to be there early enough to coordinate all the groups arriving. His master schedule had allowed them three weeks of preparation time, more than enough to sharpen the tip of the spear.

Still, the words haunted him. It was something of a riddle his mom had left him. Hakoda had long since given up. Kya was the scholar of the family, but she hadn't been able to solve it before her death. Katara had her necklace, but all Sokka had were these notes, scribbled on a torn piece of parchment. An owl-cat screeched in the distance, echoing eerily through the camp. It was nerve-racking camping in the forests. He knew it was illogical, but something about Fire Nation trees just seemed so ominous. Still, caves were not a constant option, seeing as Appa's misfortunes had left him terribly scarred. Setting the paper aside, Sokka tried to get some sleep.

Moonlight drifted through the sparse trees, filtered by a light mist coming in off the water. Yet, despite the lulling sound of the ocean, and the general peace of the forest, Sokka still couldn't sleep. His fingers itched, almost burned, to hold that tiny piece of paper. Usually, he could set it aside and move on, but lately, Sokka felt a heavier and heavier need to crack the riddle. Something rushed through him, not quite adrenaline, but a form of spirit or energy, and his body rejected the notion of sleep. Drawing the thick woolen blanket around him, he once again sat staring at the piece of paper, its words reverberating in his minds-resonating until they took on a life of their own.

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"Sokka? Sokka!"

Inhaling sharply, Sokka blinked rapidly, trying to force some moisture into his eyes.

"Aang? What are you doing up so late?"

The monk gave him a puzzled look. "Late? According to your schedule thing, we were supposed to start taking down the camp a while ago."

"Really? Why didn't anyone get up on time? Gah! Now we have to sacrifice our bathroom breaks! Eat something to plug you up because we can't stop unless we reach Ember Island by nightfall!"

Katara walked into the camp, absently bending the water out of her hair.

"Hey Sokka. Did you keep watch all night? You look terrible."

"Well thanks, little sis. I just wanted to make sure you were safe is all."

Aang broke in quietly, knowing Sokka well enough to recognize the sarcasm.

"Sokka, if something's wrong, we need to know. We can't afford to be anything but our best when we invade the Fire Nation."

Sighing in frustration, Sokka kicked at a rock, slumping down near the fire pit.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just, I couldn't get to sleep last night."

"Why not? Was it Yue again?"

Sokka sighed, rubbing the knots in his temples. "No, not Yue. Here, it was this."

Aang looked at it closely, trying to figure out what it meant. Katara saw the scrap, and realization suddenly shown on her face.

"Sokka, is that…?"

"Yeah, it is."

Everyone jumped as a huge rock burst out of the ground, an ever-nonchalant Toph lounging forefront. "Snoozles, what's up? My feet say you look terrible. At least, more so."

Ignoring her, Aang turned to Katara. "You know what this is?"

"Yes, I do. It's Sokka's prophecy."

Toph spat rudely into the air, sending a donkey-fly crashing under its weight. "Sokka's what now?"

"His prophecy. Every Southern Water Tribe infant has a prophecy spoken over them at birth, no one knows how or why, but the matriarch of the family prophesizes something about the child's future. Usually they become clear within two or three years of the child's birth."

A bright smile broke through Aang's face. "Really, that's awesome! Wait, how come Sokka's hasn't happened yet?"

"Don't know. Mine came true pretty quick. _Strong is she, born this day. Blood of lives past in her dwell. Heart and heart shall guide her might. A vessel of the ancients' spirit. Strong is she, born this day._ Basically, I was going to grow up to be a strong water bender."

Lounging on a patch of earth, Toph waved briskly in the air. "That's nice and all, but I'm blind. I can't read what Sokka's says. Anyone care to enlighten a blind girl?"

Taking a breath, Sokka took back the paper. "Sorry Toph, I'll read it for you. It is my prophecy after all."

"_Strong is He born this day. Moon and Ocean herald Patriarch. Lives gone and lives to come, in union only shall balance form. Ancient strife, come anew, as strife shall forge the dam. The Midnight Sun comes again, mortal as He left. Flame and Fire claim its rite, for the epoch cannot undo. Celestial provision, the might of kin shall shelter and strengthen. Shackled by the mind, phantasms haunt and worry. Willingly chained to servitude, a bond accepted and acknowledged. Born to lead a land, not of His heart, and bear the Union of Two. A scar that binds, healed by a scar, a testament to love that is true. An ancient totem, lost to time, surfaces from deep waters. Strong is He, born this day, who wields the Heaven's dark tooth. Strong is He, whom ancients bow, and the Sun is held in debt. Strong is He, to Him be bound, in time unfettered. Strong is He, whose succession is tied to water everlasting. Strong is He, born of the skies, His blood come again. Strong is He, born this day, unto us His favor be and grant us His prosperity._"

Silence spread through the four, no one really seemed to know what to say. Aang was the first to break the quiet. "That sounds like Avatar stuff to me…"

Toph snorted loudly, "Well it can't be Twinkle Toes! You're the Avatar and not Sokka. Anything useful you wanna add?"

Aang smiled brightly. "I know. I just always wanted to say that! Sokka gets to say it all the time and I thought that this would be a great way to test it out…hmmm…feels good. You don't have to do anything but you still feel smart 'cause you spoke first!" His face getting more serious, he asked, "His sounded a lot different then yours. Do you know why?"

Katara got a pained look on her face. "I don't really understand it myself, Aang. Master Paku explained some of it to me. The Water Tribes have extremely strong ties to each other, and to our element. Because of that, the Moon Spirit gives us insight in our lives. Every prophecy is written down as it's spoken, because once the Spirit leaves, the prophecy can't be recalled. That's why our mom kept this paper, that's why Sokka keeps it. Usually the prophecies are short, and cryptic, but easy to understand with time. Sokka's is really long, and the entire feel of the message is much different. It seems like a completely different phenomenon."

Standing suddenly, Sokka shoved the paper in his pocket and started grabbing all his stuff.

Let's get going! We have an invasion to attend!" Pumping his fist until he fell over backwards, Sokka plastered a smile on his face and held a swagger at his hip.

Looking at every one warily, Aang nodded. "Everyone on Appa. We have somewhere to be."

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Dusk was creeping across the horizon as the gang reached a medium sized crater. Sokka felt eternally grateful that all conversation had steered clear of his 'prophecy'. Something told him that, whatever the prophecy meant, it would change his life drastically. He wasn't sure that he wanted that. He like being Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe-or the Boomerang guy, or even the short-lived ponytail guy. Still, there wasn't anyway to stop destiny from coming true.

The sun was still high enough in the sky to support some well deserved frolicking and fun-filled antics. Lounging in the water was relaxing, and everyone was splashing about merrily. Though currently engaged in fierce water battle between Aang and Katara, he felt oddly separate from the group. He wanted to be somewhere else. He didn't know where or why, he just felt like going somewhere. His musings were cut short as a giant wave from the two benders threw him forcefully against the shore. "Haha, you win guys. Seriously didn't think that I was enough to push two powerful benders to such lengths."

Katara giggled lightly, "Sokka, you know we'd never go easy on you!"

Sighing tiredly, "Yeah, I know. Hey guys, I'm gonna go for a quick walk. My feet are restless and I just wanna work it out before I get settled in."

"Okay Sokka. You know, if we hurt your feelings, we didn't mean to. Honest!"

"I know. I just, I don't know. I wanna get some sleep tonight, and think that clearing my head is the best way." Without another word, Sokka threw a wave over his shoulder and started heading out of the crater.

Katara watched him go, a soft, "Be safe" calling after him.

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Zuko lounged on a worn cliff face, his legs dangling carelessly over the edge. He felt like he needed to get away from all the politics that surrounded Azula and her companions. Mai was the only one of the three he could actually stand. Mai was fine, great even, but there were times like these when he just needed to be alone. Sighing softly, he tried to find relaxation in the sea breeze. Ahh, but he just couldn't! No matter how calm he felt, no matter where he went on vacation, there was this burning in his heart, this urge to get out there and do something! Naturally, his first thought was the Avatar. That Water Tribe girl, Katara, she could've brought him back. He knew the Avatar was still alive.

Grumbling, furious at the Avatar, at his sister, at himself…Zuko spotted a lone figure break the horizon. Having nothing better to distract him from his own angst, Zuko watched the stranger approach. Soon, he was close enough to see the face, despite the quickening dark. It was a teenage boy, maybe one or two years younger than himself. Sitting up straight, Zuko knew that boy; it was the peasant who always traveled with the Avatar!

Without another word or thought, Zuko sprang off his perch, determined to capture his only lead. The dusk added to his stealth, which was already sharply honed. Unbeknownst to he enemy, the Fire Nation Prince had swiftly circled behind the prey, and was quickly coming within attack range. Giving no warnings, Zuko delivered a powerful strike at the boy's neck, knocking him unconscious with a single blow.

Watching the figure crumple to the ground, Zuko was already planning how to smuggle his prize back to the capital without alerting his sister…

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Sokka raised his head groggily, trying to figure out where the hell he was. He knew he wasn't on Ember Island anymore; he had come out of his drug-induced stupor when he was being smuggled onto a small ship. If anyone recognized his ties to the Avatar, he would bet his boomerang that they had taken him to the capital. Sokka hung his head tiredly, he was gonna be tortured…there was no room for torture on his schedule! Just like firebenders, no consideration whatsoever!

Shaking the cobwebs out of his mind, Sokka tried to get a read on the room he was in. It was fairly large, and entirely open, seemingly carved right out of a volcano. It was hot and humid, and, if he strained as far as he could, he could see a door and a window boasting a view of thick white steam. His reconnaissance was hindered by his bindings. He was shackled in an odd, metal contraption that secured his neck and wrists in tandem with one another. Iron clasps tethered him the ground, forcing him to bend over, feet spread apart. From his position, he was facing a wall in an unused portion of the room. Sokka could see a bed and other furnishings out of the corner of his eye.

Cringing, Sokka braced himself as he heard a solid door open and shut ominously. Heavy footfalls worked their way across the room, echoing lightly in the sparse room. Sokka tried to think of someone, anyone, who could link him to the Avatar…but there was no one he knew that would've been on Ember Island! Grunting slightly, a pair of hot hands grasped his chin, forcing his gaze to meet his captor.

"Zuko!"

Sokka stared into a pair of amused, golden eyes. There was something off; the prissy lordling was trying to hide something from him.

"Well, I'm a little embarrassed, but you know my name, and I don't know yours. What is your name, boy?"

The Fire Nation Prince spoke in a disarmingly sweet tone, but Sokka was too smart to fall for it. "You mean you fucking kidnap me without knowing who I am? No wonder Azula is considered the smart one."

Smirking as irritation flashed through the prince's eyes, Sokka had to wonder what he was doing here, and why the prince was being 'nice'-if a disturbingly strange form of the courtesy. "Why am I here Zuko? Let me go!"

His breath caught as Zuko grabbed his neck, the other's face lowered right next to his ear. Sokka felt his heart jump as Zuko thumbed his neck, fingering his pulse.

"Uncle told me that Water Tribe natives are infamous in their ability to endure torture. To the point of it being impossible, unless you have someone they love. I think, though, I am going to have to try a new tactic with you."

Sokka knew the situation was escalating, and there was nothing he could do about it. His captor's eyes glinted dangerously.

"I am going to seduce you…and break your heart."

Revulsion ripped through his stomach. This, this, this lunatic was going to, to take his virginity? Why the hell would he want that! Rape him! No way in hell! With that thought, he began to thrash against his bindings, trying to escape. He tried to block out Zuko's voice, ignoring that fake tone.

"I know. That's what I thought at first, too. My Uncle discouraged this, though. He said the heart is a product of balance, and that balance puts me at risk as well. Whatever risk it is, I am willing to take it."

Sokka flinched as a ripple of heat cascaded around the room. "You won't seduce me, you ass! There's no way in hell you're gonna get me to do anything, you bastard!"

"No way, hmmm?"

Sokka looked over, curious. Zuko was holding a bottle, about the size of a large apple. It shone a deep red, but, he couldn't sense anything vile from it.

Noticing his look of confusion, Zuko smirked at his prey. "This is oil from a Phoenix Blossom. It's an odd plant; its oil is highly sought after. It has a relaxing scent, and does wonders for the body. However, its most curious trait is that, when heated, it becomes a fierce and almost intolerable aphrodisiac…but only to the Water Tribe. As luck would have it, I have a whole bottle for my own uses."

Fear finally etched itself across Sokka's face. That's just like the…"Twilight Glory…"

Zuko shot a gaze at his soon to be pet. "Yes, it has the opposite effects of the Twilight Glory. Yet, fortunately for me, you have none of those flowers available. Anyway, let's begin. Where is the Avatar?"

As if by rote, Sokka replied. "He died."

Wincing, Sokka felt those damned hands on him again.

"Shit!"

Flames danced along his tunic, and he squirmed to get away. The fire licked at his body, and he felt his garments fall away. It was happening. He was naked and sweating and Zuko began removing his armor.

"Now, now. Let's not lie. Where is the Avatar?"

"I don't know! He's dead!"

Sokka gulped as the bottle was opened, watching in sick fascination as one slender finger coated itself in oil.

Heat and pleasure erupted across his skin, as that single finger drew lazy patterns this way and that. He felt his body throw itself at the pleasure, his member going stiff within seconds. Whimpers fought their way out of his mouth, his own gasping the only ambience in the room.

"Sokka just let me know."

Gulping loudly, Sokka tried to appease his parched throat. Whatever Zuko had done to him really worked. It was all he could do not to beg for more. He fought for control over his body, once again blocking out that soft, silken voice. Determined, he vowed to not say a single word.

Zuko looked down at his trembling 'partner'. It looked as if the Water Tribe native was going to be difficult to break. He had already gone through the steps. Let the prisoner develop his own horrors. Remove his clothing-an opponent with clothes had more confidence than one without. Develop tangible fear. Any other prisoner Zuko had ever interrogated hardly made it past the first stage…but this boy…Sokka; he might actually have to take things all the way.

Coating his middle finger in the oil, he reached between the boy and started fondling his hole. Listening desperately for any sign of reluctance, any sign of giving in, Zuko was rewarded with soft mewling gags. He…began to lose focus. Sokka was stretched out by the stockade, his long musculature accented by sweat and desire. Zuko…couldn't think of anything else.

Without warning, he dug into the boy, watching with an unhealthy amount of joy as his prey squirmed and bucked under his administrations. One finger was joined by two, then three, and with each entry his prisoner pushed back. Zuko stayed his hand, watching as the teen fucked himself on his fingers. Sweat beaded across Zuko's forehead. Maybe, maybe this is what Uncle meant…that ensnaring another's heart…used his own as bait.

A sharp gasp of pleasure brought him from his daydreams, focusing his attentions on the task at hand. Zuko removed his fingers from the opening, and divested himself of his remaining clothing. Coating his princehood in the oil, he plunged into Sokka, immediately assaulted by the hot, twitching sheath.

Sokka was in heaven…or hell; wherever he was he didn't want to leave! Sparks exploded deep inside of him, flash fires left by Zuko's excavating fingers. He wanted to scream in frustration at the loss of those digits, only to be rewarded by a hard shaft of pure sensations spiking through him.

He waited for, oh spirits did he wait for it. A single tear gathered at his eye, threatening to trail down his cheek. He wished it was a tear of sadness, of revulsion. He wanted it to be a sign of hate! But, gods, did he feel so full of joy! He felt so fucking complete he was crying!

He didn't have much time for contemplation, as Zuko's thrusts became erratic, hitting something inside of him. Sokka blushed a fierce red, but couldn't hold on any longer. His cock jumped sporadically, spraying thick jets of cum that coated his chest and neck. The prince's jabs became impossibly fast, and his weakening pleasure burst through him once again. He could…he could feel Zuko get even harder inside of him…he felt him start to cum, pumping hot seed deep inside of him. Gods, he had never felt so good.

Zuko unlocked Sokka's bindings, pulling the boy with him too the bed. Collapsing at the foot of the monolithic mattress, he tugged his prisoner onto his lap. A light blush spread across his olive skin, not sure how to react. He looked at his victim, only to be greeted by a brilliant smile.

Smirking, he posed a question to his 'lover'. "Where is the Avatar?"

"Damned if I know."

A cheeky grin spread over his face, and Zuko couldn't help but return it. Throwing the captive onto the bed, he quickly became caught up in his interrogations.

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So. Anyone wanna help on this one? Black fang can go two ways from here; progress through the end of the tv timeline and be split into a sequel, or I can continue with one story. Granted, I'll be skipping a lot of the tv timeline, just a little more depth. My inspiration for this story is FIRE CHILD...so...any input would be great.


	3. The Rite of Flame and Fire

Hello, all. Long time, I know. New name, new direction, things of that nature. I've been wrapped up in several things; work, school, customer service-and it has all been rather mind numbing. Well, I have here the long anticipated next chapter. May it serve you well, and spark reviews!

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Sokka jumped as the heavy steel door slammed open with a vengeance, Zuko striding through with a angry grimace. His strange...captivity...had been going on for days now, and, somehow, they had come to an unacknowledged agreement. He shook his head, in wonderment no doubt, on how this even started. Zuko's glare softened into a smirk even before he made eye contact with Sokka. At that moment, a strange shiver spread out from his chest. Sokka frowned at the window, Zuko said that the steam from the hot springs outside kept them warm, but there must have been a draft.

Zuko cracked his fingers like a whip, startling Sokka, obviously unhappy at his attention being elsewhere. Turning back to his captor, he got caught up in their strange staring match—Zuko must have thought he looked confused or something—he gestured at the cloth-covered tray in his arms with irritation. "My lunch? I Finally get to eat?" It wasn't that he was overly excitable, or that he hadn't been fed well, but it was lunch. Food was always a priority.

With an exaggeratedly dramatic expression of long-suffering, Zuko held the tray a little bit off to the side and moved closer to the bed. Despite a heavy chair at what seemed to be Zuko's desk, it was by far the most comfortable place in the room, though it had its downsides. It also happened to be the most comfortable place for...things...other than sitting or sleeping. And Sokka on the bed tended to get Zuko prepped for: 'Sokka on his back on the bed', 'Sokka holding onto the headboard for dear life', or, his favorite, 'Sokka bent over the bed'. As a captive, it wasn't really that bad. Good food delivered, and...entertainment of a sort. He was never bored.

Zuko slithered onto the bed—slithered like a snake—his eyes glittering as his closed in on Sokka—also like a snake. "You'd think I never feed you with how you complain. I must not be a very good warden, letting you disrespect me like that, maybe you deserve a punishment." His voice was low and throaty, as usual, and laced with innuendo, also usual, and Sokka decided to ignore it. Innuendos were like Sokka spending too much time on the bed, it led to Sokka spending more time on the bed.

And so he snorted his reply. "I need at least five square meals a day, and two snacks." Zuko gave him a look, and he felt his cheeks flame for no apparent reason. That had been happening way too often for Sokka's liking. He felt calloused fingers stroking his cheeks, which only made him blush harder, and he thought distantly, that Zuko must like his blushes.

The princeling leaned in closed, softly mouthing his ear, and heard him mumble something in more of a growl than a murmur. "I bet you're seconds away from saying something about being a growing boy or a fierce warrior needing his strength, huh?"

With his manliness in question, Sokka lashed out in irritation. "I do need my strength, you pervert! With all this, this...uh," Zuko's gaze intensified on him, and Sokka felt all his shallow rage fade away into embarrassment and want. "It, uh, takes a lot of effort, you know, and I, uh, I think that deserves some recognition, yeah?"

The dynamic between him and Zuko was odd, and Sokka had found almost from the start that they behaved more like lovers than prisoner and guard. With a prisoner and guard, his outburst could've earned him a beating. With Zuko as a lover, he knew it would get him hours of ceaseless fondling and molesting—if he was lucky. If he wasn't, he very well may end up numb from the waste down. Zuko was insatiable, and Sokka was starting to doubt that he would ever witness the day that Zuko would lose an erection once he had...uh, taken an interest. At least, not without...vigorous...cooperation.

Knowing this, he was more than unsurprised when Zuko leaned in, lust evident in eyes like cast gold, burnished and hot. Even after all this time, without a calendar he wasn't sure, but Sokka knew he had to have been captured several days ago, if not weeks, yet he still felt Zuko's evident desire for him, and he'd be damned if it wasn't the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. Whenever Zuko focused on anything, _anything_, there was an intensity, an _attack_ to it. And when it came to Sokka, that attack became an all out war.

So it was very surprising, and surprisingly disappointing, when Zuko broke away, leaning back onto a plump pillow, tugging the tray between them. "Well, I wouldn't want you underfed." His voice was still thick with lust, filling the space between them like rough furs, and Sokka's mouth went dry. Just a little. God help him, even clearing his throat was sexy!

Without another word, Zuko twitched away the cloth, revealing a plain white porcelain jar...of something. Eying it suspiciously, Sokka turned his probing look to Zuko. The last jar Zuko had produced had some hidden side-effects. "What is it?" He asked rudely. He was always rude when he remembered that Zuko had drugged and raped him. It didn't matter that every time afterward was consensual. It was a matter of principle.

"Buzzard wasp honey." Zuko replied simply. "And it isn't lunch, it's hardly past mid-morning."

Sokka shrugged noncommittally—the constant steam in front of the window made it hard to tell the time—and reached for the jar. Zuko swatted away his hand.

"Why'd you do that! I'm _hungry_."

He lowered his voice, and in the most condescending voice, he said, "You have to earn it first."

Snorting indignantly, Sokka knew exactly where this was going and decided to nip it in the bud. Fun as it was, he hadn't eaten yet. "I've had buzzard bee honey before. It's not all that special." To be honest, it was rather disgusting. Tasted like dead penguins. But it was food. "Sorry, my Prince, but no. Poor bargaining chip on your end though." There, that should do for scorn.

Zuko gave him a pitying look, picking up the jar.

Narrowing his eyes, Sokka felt some sort of...vibe...in the room. And he didn't like it. "I see. You're thinking about how great you are, huh? How splendid it would be _for me, _to be bedded by you. _Again._" Shaking his head in feigned exasperation, "I thought we broke you of that bad habit last night, thinking too much of yourself. Oh well, I can be sure to take you down a notch or six." He leaned in conspiratorially, "You and me. Anytime."

Zuko matched him for distance, their noses the barest centimeter apart. His voice was a whisper, like silk drawn across a blade. "It's hard to get a lesson like that to stick. I can barely remember. In fact, I just remember you bouncing and moaning in my lap, long before I started begging."

Sokka blinked. And blushed. Again. That was...inconvenient. That damn Prince and his damned inconvenient memory.

"Whatever. Not to burst your royal little bubble, but I've had that stuff before. Not great."

"Not great? What, did you eat it right off the cave wall? It's a delicacy, peasant." The words were harsh, but nothing Sokka hadn't heard before, the tone was honeyed.

He flushed still, he had, after all, eaten it right off the cave wall. There was nothing to say though, so he just looked away. Terribly aware of his still-red face. It was than that he noticed Zuko was opening the jar, dipping that same damned finger into the opening. That same damned finger that had started this whole mess. The honey was darker than normal, more of an amber than gold. He watched as Zuko gathered it, and everything seemed to slow as it was brought toward his lips. Hovering just inches away from Zuko's mouth, as though waiting for something.

At that moment, a thick, viscous drop of honey fell in a classic teardrop shape, pooling and dripping on the Crown Prince's nipple. Sokka hadn't even noticed him taking off his shirt. He glared sharply at Zuko, ignoring the other teen's curt gesture to clean it off. "And _what_, exactly do you want me to do with _that_?"

"Here I thought it was obvious," he whispered harshly. In a gruffer tone, he said "Lick it up."

More than a little amused, "Really? That's your ultimatum? Your big deal-breaker? Lick my food off of your...body?" He stumbled over the last part, but went on with his train of thought before Zuko could distract him. "Sorry, Mr. Think You're Hot Stuff Guy, but not with honey. Steak, yeah. Maybe. Honey?" He shrugged noncommittally, "Gonna need some better bait for something this quality." Even with their easy camaraderie, and the dancing around the sex, there was always something else. Something between the lines of what was said, like they had done this all before.

Zuko just grinned arrogantly at him, and Sokka felt a...shift...of some kind. His only guess was that he was doing something with his chi. There were no obvious signs of firebending. No one would ever describe Zuko as subtle, but Sokka knew that subtle Zuko meant bad things. Very bad things. Usually.

The tension was thick in the room, and then something wonderful happened. Or terrible. This scent started filling the air. The fondly remembered smell of grilling meat, thickly married with the sweet tang of honey. It hung heavy in the room, Sokka was literally tasting it with every breath. He was reminded of a mouth-watering bear steak. In that moment, his resolve slipped, for just a second, but—looking at the suddenly smug look in Zuko's eyes—he was well and truly caught. And they both knew it.

Sokka tried to look away, at the window, at the desk, the headboard, anything but at Zuko. There was no hope, though. With their little time together—and rather limited range of freedom—they had managed to christen nearly every aspect of the room. Yes, the window. The desk. The headboard. And that stockade from the first time was still tucked away in the corner. Unwilling, Sokka shuddered at the memory of absolute lust that had coursed through him after Zuko had introduced him to his aphrodisiac. Even more unwilling, he tried to block away the memories of even more overwhelming lust, that was a product of just Zuko and Sokka. That was the worst part of it, realizing that Sokka wanted Zuko to a degree that it out-striped any conjured or coerced desire.

In the end, like a bee to a hive, his eyes caught the dim glint of honey on his prince's chest. With the smell filling his nose, and Zuko's well-defined chest and rippling muscles cloaking his eyes, there was just no more escape. He bent, slowly, nearly his entire being willing him forward, and, with tongue extended, he lapped at that dollop of honey. The wonderful taste of cured, perfect _meat_ blossomed on his tongue, paired with the sharp and sweet and spicy flavor that was purely Zuko. It was a flavor that he had become intimately aware of. So lost in the taste and act, he didn't notice when the honey was done and gone, trapped suckling at Zuko's chest.

Dimly, he noticed another stream, and he followed it with his mouth. Up and down, he mouthed one nipple, than the next, following drip after drip, from chest, to bicep, to thigh. All but worshiping each defined muscle. It was...strangely intoxicating, learning Zuko's body in that way, feeling more than seeing, his reactions to a probing tongue and questing mouth. Sokka lost track of time, and his jaw had started to ache long since. Still, he couldn't stop. And then, all at once, he was at Zuko's cock, a thin, tapering trail of honey crowning his princehood. A bubble of precum started at the tip, and ran almost perfectly anti-clockwise, and Sokka'd be damned if it wasn't one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

Without even fully committing to the decision, he was slobbering at Zuko's lap like it was the only water left in the world, only half-registering the the slight twist of Zuko's hips, or the softly echoing grunts. There were no words, there was no need for them. A pair of strong, hot hands lifted him up by the shoulders, and he lunged against them before he realized it. Panting heavily, ignoring the drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, Sokka met the heated, predatory amber gaze of his captor.

"Are you going to share at all?" Zuko growled.

Before he had even a half-second to respond, he was shoved hard onto the soft mattress, bouncing once or twice, and was covered in what was left of the honey, enough to drown his abdomen and nearly cover his chest. Nipping, demanding lips and teeth were everywhere. No escape. Sokka's breaths were short, and heavy. His entire body seemingly at the mercy of his Prince. Writhing under Zuko's lustful command, it was an awkward moment for an existential thought, but Sokka had never really conformed to the 'normal' template. He was really an extraordinary person, with the misfortune to be in the comparative company of the Avatar, the world's greatest earthbender, and the last Southern waterbender.

Still, as he arched his back against two fingers roughly prepping him, his entire being—mind, soul, body and spirit—screamed yes, acceptance. With the exception of their first time together, everything afterward he had agreed to, but this time, something was different. Something was stronger, resonating somehow. It was like, he could feel his heart beating, but it wasn't his chest he felt, it was Zuko's. He felt, connected, bonded in a way he couldn't entirely comprehend.

Three fingers curled inside of him, and the breaking waves of pleasure and anticipation yanked him back to the moment, and he found Zuko staring at him. Wondering at him, slight confusion and lust and something...faint...in his eyes. That something, tickled at Sokka's heart, at his gut, leaving a warmth and fire in its place.

He watched as Zuko shook his head sharply, like he had realized just how deep they had been in each other's thrall, he watched as Zuko cleared his throat, trying to step out of the moment. Almost nose to nose, Sokka nearly jumped when he spoke.

"Wh-Where is the Avatar?"

Giving Zuko his most malicious smirk, he sinuously wrapped himself around his lover's hips, sitting up in his lap. "Is a twelve-year old really who you want to focus on right now?" He felt Zuko's fingers flex inside him.

A choked "Hell no," answered him, and Sokka had mere moments before he was lifted up just enough, and then plunged onto Zuko's hard shaft. Grimacing slightly, Sokka quickly adjusted to Zuko's girth, his cock thrusting and searching inside of him. His own member leaked and throbbed between them, trapped against their stomachs, and he ground his hips for more friction. Lost in his own sensations, he mumbled commands. Harder, faster. Too much, not enough.

All too soon, his body froze, jerking into a rigid pose, arching deep against Zuko, and that moment seemed to stretch. Sokka hung there, suspended for a moment, before everything broke free, crashing against his skin, his orgasm tearing through him. He clutched at Zuko's shoulders, trying to ground himself, but it was no use. Pleasure arced through him, this pulse strong, this one weak, in a random, uncontrollable pattern, and it was all he could do to shudder in Zuko's strong arms, to twitch on his lap, with Zuko thrusting harder and harder up into him.

Abruptly, Zuko sped up, thrusting faster and faster and faster, and whatever control Sokka had gained as the pleasure waned he lost in the sheer intensity of the moment. Sokka squeaked as Zuko bit down hard on his shoulder when he came, nearly breaking the skin. He couldn't help but feel a strange kind of power as he felt Zuko come inside of him.

They both collapsed, panting, as the rushing in their ears began to settle. It was always a rush for Sokka. For Zuko too, he suspected. And it always left him tired.

Zuko mumbled something into his ear, and Sokka slugged him lightly on the shoulder. The prince grunted, but repeated himself a little clearer. Rolling his eyes, "I said, did you enjoy your snack."

Despite himself, Sokka smiled brightly. "Yeah. I did" Then, with a lascivious wink, "Next time, bring something fried."

Nuzzling into his neck, Zuko murmured, "I could do fried."

Pulling Zuko's arm around him, Sokka snuggled into his chest and settled in to sleep. For someone with so little body fat, and so much overt musculature, he was surprisingly comfy as a pillow. Always warm, with silky smooth skin. Even his scar was silky. Zuko almost always stopped him from touching it, but sometimes, he was able to feel it. The knotted, forever-burned skin was so intriguing to the water tribe native. Zuko was the first burn victim he had ever met. It was smooth, soft, but in a strange blend of firm and pliable. He reached around, following the jawline to the ear, and felt soft, healthy skin.

Sokka frowned, he thought that Zuko's ear was all shriveled. Tugging a little more insistently at it, he frowned again. No, it felt completely normal. Kneeling up, he moved around to get a closer look. Or at least, tried too, before his legs gave out and Zuko yanked him back down.

A slightly out-of-breathe, irritated Prince glared wearily at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I, well, I want to see your ear."

"My ear? You've seen it."

"I know that, but, it feels different."

Zuko pulled away sharply, his voice flat and dangerous. "It's scarred. Of course it feels different."

Sokka scrubbed his hands through his hair in exasperation. "No, I mean it feels like your other ear. It feels like it healed."

"Its a scar. It can't be healed."

Fed up, Sokka grabbed the others hand and yanked it up to his ear. "No shit, scar-face."

Annoyed, he turned around, ignorant of the sudden amazement on Zuko's face, purposefully ignoring Zuko's attempts at reconciliation.

After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts at peace, Zuko pulled away, gathering his clothes. "I have some things I still need to take care of. I, I came back early because I'll be busy until late. I just wanted you to know. I won't be back until you're probably asleep."

Sokka didn't respond, he just lay there listening to Zuko get ready and leave. He didn't know why he had caused such a scene. It was just an ear. After all the sex, and—dare he say it—the friendship, and that _damn_ something more, it just hurt to hear Zuko use that voice against him. That voice that had threatened his home village, that had attacked his sister. That, and this little feeling at the back of his head told him that it wasn't just an ear. He called that feeling, like an itch right behind his ear, his instincts. Aang and Katara had made fun of him for it before, but after a while, even they had realized the value of his 'instincts', and Sokka had learned to trust them.

Whatever it was, he hadn't figured it out by the time he drifted off to sleep. Completely ignorant of the fasting waning sunlight, and the bilious fog that swarmed through the room.

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Zuko glared sullenly at the council, sitting at his father's right hand. It was a bittersweet moment for him. At that one point, that brief second as he sat down next to the Fire Lord, his every want had been fulfilled. He was honored by his father, respected by him. He wasn't a disappointment. Then it was gone. His entire drive for the last three year—at best—reduced to a momentary flash of satisfaction. Schooling his features into an impassive frown, he wanted to slap himself in the forehead.

Was he really this person? So tied up in what his father wanted him to be that he couldn't say where his own life started and where his father's influence ended. Knowing this, in spite of the accolades, the honors, the pampering, the _royalty_, Zuko felt shame curdle in his stomach. He just wanted to go back and molest Sokka.

So startled at his own stray thoughts, he nearly flinched. Had it really come to that point? Zuko had honestly had very little relationship experience. His father had made sure of that. Mai and him had had a fairly casual thing going, though Mai seemed to be getting more and more invested. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to her, it was just—it was like she was familiar, and she was. Familiar and kind—if a little cynical—and warm, without being overtly feminine. And yet, he really felt very little for her. She was everything he had ever wanted, he could honestly see a future with her...but that was before Sokka. Before the entire universe turned on its head, leaving Zuko floundering in uncharted, unknown waters. If he could see a future with Mai, he could _feel_ it with Sokka, almost like he remembered it.

Sokka was, he was unpredictable and smart, yet somehow adorably obtuse. He was masculine without being threatening, yet dangerous in his own right. Very skilled, a born leader, and Zuko felt his bones melt every time those silvered eyes turned near to black with lust. If Mai was kind, it was nothing to Sokka's nobility. Sokka had been born with nothing, yet, despite being a peasant, he had such a strong moral conduct it surpassed anything Zuko had encountered. You knew who you were and how you stood with Sokka. There were no biting comments, other than some remarkable sarcasm. There was just an open honesty between the two of them.

It was sobering to think of how all of it started, with Zuko drunk on his own power over the other teenager, and yet, somehow it hadn't changed. It was like he had gotten a little taste of Sokka, and everything about the Water Tribe native seemed to inflame his soul. Zuko couldn't remember the last time he had felt that much passion in one moment. Determinedly pushing Sokka from his head, he tried to listen to the generals' reports on how the war in the Earth Kingdom was progressing. Dear gods, when was this blasted thing going to finish?

"Zuko, you've spent time amongst the Earth Kingdom commoners, do you think more troops is the solution?"

Hearing his father speaking so suddenly, Zuko almost shamed himself by twitching violently, or nearly falling over. Rapidly review what the plan the generals proposed, he answered as truthfully as he could, to please his father. And hating himself because of it.

"The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong. They will not break, so long as they have hope."

Azula cut in, and Zuko automatically filtered out whatever she was saying in her slightly nasal voice. His hand wandered up to his ear, fingering it just slightly before putting his hand back down. It was very hard to keep still. Zuko hadn't had a proper chance to see it in a mirror since leaving Sokka in their bedchamber. His impromptu cell. Uncle had shown it to him just before his banishment. Apparently, the passageway from the Crown Prince's chambers down to the hot springs and small study was known only to the Crown Prince. He hadn't been able to think of a better place to hide a prisoner. No one knew of it, and Zuko was sure that he was the only one to know of the secret river leading to the hot springs. He very well may be the only one to know of the hot springs as well. It was in the heart of the volcano—which had long lain dormant—and emitted so much steam it was widely though the volcano was still active.

"And we will burn it to the ground!"

Snapping out of his little daydream, Zuko barely stopped a look of horror from oozing across his face. Even only half-hearing the plan his father had put forth, ignorant of the blind praises given the Fire Lord, he was sickened by the wickedness of it. His father had gone mad.

Thankfully, the meeting died out quickly, and Zuko slipped out just as fast, dodging pompous generals and war heroes, avoiding any of these people affected by his father's insanity.

His mind was racing. Zuko knew—knew without a doubt—that he wouldn't be able to stay here. Everywhere he was seeing things, every person seemed steeped in the same madness he had suddenly sensed from his father. Staying here, supporting a man who wanted to burn the world, are at least a majority of it, to the ground was against every definable trait he held dear. He wanted to slap himself. How could he have been so stupid?

What was he to do? He couldn't just walk out. He had to do something, tell someone. Mai could stay, she could take care of herself. There was no time to convince her, and besides, Zuko had to get Sokka clothes, and preferably a disguise. He had been wearing most of Zuko's old clothes, they were still too big, but Zuko liked the idea of him wearing his clothes too much to have them fitted. The palace seamstresses were out of the question, it was much to easy to track. If Zuko had been going alone, it would have been much easier, easier to wait and find the right time. Sokka couldn't be left here though. There had to be a way to get the both of them out.

Suddenly, a thought crashed against his skull. Zuko would have to let Sokka go. There was no reason to keep him captive. There was no reason for them to be together, now. In all likelihood, they would end up being on the same side soon enough. Maybe if he convinced Sokka to take him to the Avatar. No. No, he wouldn't be welcomed. Not yet. He couldn't be. After capturing his close friend, and raping said friend, Zuko would be lucky if the Avatar didn't demand his head on the spot. Zuko would still try, of course, but not yet. Even thinking about freeing his...captive? His friend? His lover? Whatever Sokka was, it hurt to think of freeing him. He would have to let Sokka go.

‡**ῷ†ῷ‡Ҫҩԇ§ᶓԇῥᶓἦϯἶδ‡ῷ†ῷ‡**

Sokka woke slowly, feeling strange and...floaty. He was tired, achy, and he wanted to sleep. The bed felt very heavy, as did the blankets...but he felt light. Very light. It felt that at the slightest provocation gravity would just give him up, and he would float away. Struggling up—it was less than a struggle, actually, he flew up a little too quickly—and holding his protesting head, he blinked blearily around the room. A dense blue fog roiled around him, spilling in thick vaporous waves through the window.

He stood quickly, stumbling at the change in position. Whatever made the bed feel heavy and Sokka light seemed to affect the entire room. It was curious. Who had ever heard of blue fog? Walking to the door, he wondered if he should look outside. Caught in the decision, he debated himself, taking deep breaths. The air had an odd taste to it. Usually you could taste the water in the air, be it seawater or freshwater, humidity or impending rain, but this taste was different. It was very subtle. Almost nonexistent, like he was remembering it's taste instead of actually tasting it. His heart beat a half-second faster.

Abandoning caution, Sokka yanked the door open and stepped outside. Into another place. He had been outside of his prison, there were two small hot springs on either side of the door, and a large, steaming pond. Where the water came from, Sokka didn't know, but it was there. And all around, huge rock walls soared nearly straight up, nearly joining at the summit of what could only be a dormant volcano. Here, though, here was completely different.

The land itself glowed with an eerie light, casting backwards shadows across his face. Sokka stood at the top of a set of stairs leading into a strange courtyard. A path, only one stone thick, lead into the courtyard, branching out into several other paths seemingly placed at random. The original, though, led in a single, continuous direction. Straight forward. Elegant swirls were carved into the face of the stone, beautiful and troubling. He tried to follow the pattern with his eyes, but it kept disappearing and reappearing in impossible ways. His head hurt.

Strange, delicate plants grew out of the rock in between the paths. They looked to be carved of the most fragile ice, translucent and precious. As if a single breath would devastate the landscape. The ground itself was reminiscent of a zen garden, clean lines and sudden angles playing counterpoint to the curving designs of the stone. Pillars rose at intervals, all in perfect symmetry with the others. This place was beautiful. Nearing the end of the courtyard, he looked up at a set of stairs identical to the ones he had started out on. Looking around, he couldn't find the original stairs, he couldn't even see the end of the courtyard. Shrugging, deciding he must have gone in a circle, Sokka moved to walk up the stairs.

"Only the dead can make that journey and survive."

Jumping at the feminine, familiar voice, Sokka turned grabbing for his boomerang-only to remember that Zuko had confiscated it. Damn royalty. If the landscape was breathless, this figure was more so. But he recognized her. A young woman, about his age, hovered a half-foot above the ground, cloaked in shimmering white robes that whiped in the non-existent wind. Young she seemed, and had been, in life, but now...age radiated from her. As youthful as night in full bloom, wrapped in the imperious dignity of the moon.

Yue.

‡**ῷ†ῷ‡Ҫҩԇ§ᶓԇῥᶓἦϯἶδ‡ῷ†ῷ‡**

**Thanks for Reading!  
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